As Mr. Davies accepted my offer, I led him into the living room, leaving Tom and Sarah standing on the doorstep, their confident facade cracking ever so slightly. My small home was a testament to years of carefully curated memories, each piece of furniture, each photograph, a part of my life’s arithmetic.
I fetched the camera from its spot by the window, the one with the perfect view of their house and the surrounding yard. While I prepared the tea, Mr. Davies inspected the camera, scrolling through the footage with the same keen attention to detail that had served me well during my years of teaching.
“Fascinating quality for a bird-watching camera,” he murmured, glancing at me with a newfound respect.
